


Happy Thoughts

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mild Smut, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Caractacus loved his wife, so it's only natural that his feelings for Nevada cause some guilt and internal conflict.Nevada doesn't have a lot of experience comforting people, but he tries his best.
Relationships: Caractacus Potts/Nevada Ramirez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35
Collections: Nevactacus





	Happy Thoughts

Caractacus was awakened by the soft brush of lips against his cheek, his nose, his mouth. He hummed happily, sleepily, his eyes fluttering open as he stretched his legs beneath the blankets.

“Good morning, love,” Mimsie said, running a light finger along his stubbled jaw as she smiled down at him. She was propped on an elbow beside him, leaned against his side, the warm weight of her breasts against his chest. Her hair was tousled around her face, her cheeks still pink from sleep.

His heart stumbled at the sight of her. Her beauty always hit him hard in the morning, even after so many years together, but it was more than that. His stomach fluttered with something like unease, something he couldn’t quite identify.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured before he realized the words were on his tongue. He was still half asleep, warm and cozy and safe in the bed he shared with his wife.

She laughed softly and brushed his hair from his forehead. “What do you mean, missed me? I’ve been right here, every night, every morning.”

“Right, yes,” he said, trying to shake off the strange heaviness threatening to settle over him. He smiled and lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I know.” He could smell her hair, the flowery scent of her shampoo. It was a scent he would remember until his last breath, a scent that was uniquely hers regardless of how many people might use the same shampoo.

She bent down and pressed her lips against his; her kiss was slow and easy, soft, familiar. “We have an hour,” she murmured, smiling against his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said, wrapping his arms around her to pull her flush against his chest. “Woke me early, did you?” He kissed her again, licking at her lips to taste the lingering remains of the chapstick she always applied before going to sleep. Cherry. “Did you have something in mind?”

She shifted onto him, her heat seeping through the layers of their pajamas, her weight pushing him into the softness of the bed. She cupped her palms to his cheeks and smiled again, ducking her head to kiss him. “You’re the genius, Jack. I assumed you could think of something.”

He hummed against her mouth and slid a palm down her back to cup the perfect mound of her ass. She fit his hands perfectly, every inch of her. She always had. “The only smart thing I’ve ever done is trick you into loving me,” he said, laughing when she tickled playfully at his ribs. He slid her nightgown up her thighs, fingering lightly at the edge of her cotton panties.

“You’re running out of time,” she teased. Her tone was light, and her smile was full of affection, but her words brought an unexpected stab of dread that made him pause. She tipped her head, her forehead wrinkling a bit as she saw something in his expression. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked, laying a palm over his thudding heart.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m just…” He gave his head a little shake against the pillow. “I think maybe I had a bad dream or something. I’m sorry.”

“My poor love,” she said. She ran her hands over his face, his shoulder, his chest. “Can I help you forget all the bad feelings?”

“Always,” he answered, pushing her nightgown higher so he could slip a hand under the elastic waistband of her panties. Her skin was soft and warm against his calloused palm. She never complained about the roughness of his hands because his touch was always gentle, reverent. “No bad feelings have power when you’re around.” He tipped his face to kiss her again. “I love you.”

She sighed softly against his mouth. “I know.” She shifted against him, feeling the proof of his budding arousal. “But if you’d rather go back to sleep for an hour…”

“Haha, nice try,” he said, grabbing her and quickly rolling so his body was covering hers. She giggled beneath him, clutching at his hips. “You’ve got me wide awake, now.”

“So I see. And it’s about time, I’ve been waiting forever.”

“You should’ve woken me sooner,” he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck. “You know I’d never keep you waiting.” He sucked lightly at her skin and she squirmed beneath him, her hands roaming the expanse of his back beneath his shirt. He pushed his hips gently against her, nestling his growing bulge between her legs with a satisfied hum. Her nightgown was hiked up to her waist and he ran a hand over her bare thigh, marveling at the silkiness of her skin.

“You’re late,” Mimsie said, and Caractacus paused, lifting his head to look at her. “We started without you.” She was smiling, but she wasn’t looking at him. He turned his head and felt a warm shiver of anticipation when he saw Nevada slowly approaching the bed. He was dressed in tight black jeans and a black shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest to show the glint of his cross against his dark chest hair.

“I see that,” Nevada said. His voice was low, silky, full of heat. He met Caractacus’s eyes and smirked, and Caractacus could feel the weight of his gaze like a heavy caress against his skin. “Mind if I join?”

Mimsie laughed lightly as she felt Caractacus’s erection stirring against her. “Someone doesn’t mind,” she teased, lifting her head to press a kiss to Caractacus’s cheek. She scratched gently at his back, and Caractacus turned his face to kiss her properly. He felt the bed dip beneath the weight of Nevada’s knee, and then Nevada’s hand was running up the back of his thigh, his touch firm and confident as he dragged his palm up to knead Caractacus’s ass through his pajamas.

Caractacus grunted softly into Mimsie’s kiss. He felt the cool air against his skin when Nevada tugged the back of his pajamas down, and then Nevada’s hands were on his bare skin, pulling him open, and Caractacus rocked his hips forward against Mimsie with a gasp.

Nevada shifted so he was straddling Caractacus’s legs, and Caractacus felt another shiver pass through him as he waited for the gritty sound of the other man’s zipper. He made a small sound of surprise when Nevada grabbed his hips and lifted him, pulling his ass into the air, and Caractacus caught himself on his hands to either side of his wife.

She laughed at the surprise on his face and levered herself up so she could kiss his lips. He tried to slip his tongue into her mouth but she pulled away and ducked under his arm, somehow slipping from the bed before he could think to stop her.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a flare of panic. He tried to grab for her and felt the whisper of her cotton nightgown against his fingertips before she was out of reach. Nevada had his hips in a tight grip, keeping him in place, his fingers hot against Caracatacus’s skin.

“Not far,” she promised gently.

* * *

“Wait.” The sound of his own voice hit him like a slap across the face, and Caractacus gasped as the world crashed into sharp focus around him.

“I didn’t do anything,” Nevada said beside him, pulling his hand back from Caractacus’s chest. He sounded defensive, and his brows were dipped down into a frown.

Caractacus blinked at him for a moment before quickly rolling away toward the edge of the bed. His stomach was clenched painfully tight, and he closed his throat against the sound that tried to escape. He put his feet on the floor and sat with his back to Nevada, his hands fisted into the flannel over his thighs. _A dream_ , he thought, scrunching his eyes closed as though he could force himself back into sleep. He couldn’t follow her, she was already gone. She’d been gone for almost two years.

“What’s wrong?” Nevada asked. Caractacus could barely hear him. “You sick?”

He did feel ill, but he couldn’t answer. He wanted to say it was only a bad dream, but he could still smell her shampoo, taste her chapstick. He could still feel her soft skin against his palms. He could feel the warmth of her love, he could feel the burn of his desire for her.

He could feel the pressure of Nevada’s hands, could feel Nevada pulling him away from Mimsie’s body.

 _What does it mean?_ he thought, as though asking a stupid question would make the answer less obvious. “You’re the genius, Jack,” he muttered. He couldn’t draw a breath. The pain was lodged in his chest and he couldn’t let it out. He had to keep it inside, but it was going to suffocate him.

“Who’s Jack?”

It wasn’t Nevada’s fault. His presence in Caractacus’s dream had not been a source of fear, or distress; Caractacus had been happy to see him, had even felt a moment of gratitude that the world had allowed him to have Nevada and Mimsie together.

But the world had not allowed that, and he should’ve known better.

He felt the bed shift as Nevada moved closer. “ _Chiflado_?” He spoke hesitantly. “Who’s Jack?” he repeated, but there was no suspicion or accusation in his voice this time.

“I’m Jack.”

“I don’t—”

“Nevada, I can’t breathe,” Caractacus managed, raising a fist to dig his knuckles into his own chest.

Nevada grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him forward, bending him in half so his head was between his knees. The air was forced out of Caractacus in a rush, and he thought he was going to pass out. Dark blossoms had begun to spread inward from the edges of his vision, and when he closed his eyes the blossoms flared white.

Nevada’s hand was still on the back of his neck. He wasn’t touching Caractacus anywhere else. “Take a breath,” he said. His voice was rough, the command undeniable.

Caractacus sucked in a shallow breath, the best he could manage with his head between his knees. He exhaled; there was a sob buried in the puff of air, and he wrapped his arms around his head. Nevada’s hand disappeared from his neck, and Caractacus felt him get off the bed.

“Sorry,” Caractacus managed, the word muffled as he kept his arms pressed tightly around his head. He could breathe if he kept the breaths shallow, and that was progress.

“Your wife call you Jack?” Nevada asked.

Caractacus couldn’t summon the strength to be surprised, and he supposed he shouldn’t be, anyway. Nevada was observant and far more intelligent than he liked to let on. Caractacus drew another breath and let his arms slide away from his head. He was getting control of himself. After a few more seconds he was able to lift his head and draw a fuller breath.

Nevada was pacing the floor, watching him. He looked like a caged animal.

“It was just a dream,” Caractacus said, as much for himself as for Nevada.

“I don’t know how to help,” Nevada said, and Caractacus _was_ surprised by the admission.

“It’s alright. I’m okay. Sometimes I just…get blindsided, you know.”

“You’re not okay,” Nevada said. He stopped in the middle of the room. “I’m not one of your kids. You don’t have to pretend.”

Caractacus caught his lip between his teeth, barely keeping his face from crumpling. He shook his head.

Nevada hesitated, clenching his hands into fists, and looked around the room. “You want me to leave?”

Caractacus shook his head again. He wanted to reach for Nevada, wanted to feel his warmth and know that he was real.

Nevada crossed toward him slowly, cautiously. He swallowed. “You want me to touch you?” he asked.

Caractacus couldn’t speak, so he nodded. Nevada sank into a crouch in front of him and put a tentative hand on Caractacus’s knee.

“Why’d she call you Jack?” Nevada asked.

Caractacus didn’t think he’d be able to answer that, either, but the sound of his hoarse voice surprised him: “Everyone called me Crackpot,” he muttered. “But she said—” His voice cracked and he stopped, licking his lips and carefully clearing his throat. “She said I was her Jackpot. That meeting me was the best thing that ever happened to her.”

“She sounds smart,” Nevada said with a small smile.

Caractacus made a mewling sound and reached out, grabbing handfuls of Nevada’s cotton tank top and stretching the ribbed fabric. “She thought I could do anything,” Caractacus breathed. “But I couldn’t fix her.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Caractacus opened and closed his mouth, his throat working. He shook his head.

“Tell me,” Nevada said.

“I can’t.”

“Why? I can cry to you but you can’t cry to me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Nevada regarded him in silence for a few seconds. “You don’t gotta watch your words with me.”

“Nevada.” Caractacus looked at his hands, tangled in Nevada’s shirt. “She should be here.”

“I know.”

“No,” Caractacus said, shaking his head. Tears spilled from his eyes. “I mean _here_.”

“I know,” Nevada repeated, and Caractacus forced his gaze back up to the other man’s.

“But she’s not here, Nevada, she’s not here and I know she’d want me to be happy and I try, I really try but sometimes I miss her so much that I can’t—” He broke off and shook his head again.

Nevada reached out, but he did it cautiously as though he expected Caractacus to shove him away. Caractacus let out a choked sob and leaned forward, pressing his face into Nevada’s chest, and Nevada’s arms went around him.

“We were supposed to grow old together. We promised. I promised.”

“If I could bring her back for you…” Nevada said, so softly that Caractacus barely heard the words. Nevada’s arms were solid and warm, tight, as he let Caractacus cry quietly against his chest. “You don’t know how not to love, _Chiflado_ ,” Nevada finally said. “You’re like the sun, every day it comes up and shines all over everyone.”

Caractacus snorted wet laughter against Nevada’s shirt.

“So if you love someone else, it doesn’t mean you forget about her. It just means you got so much love you can’t help but…shine.”

Caractacus drew back to look at Nevada. Nevada glanced away, drew a breath, and forced his gaze back to Caractacus’s. “I think I deserve a little more credit than that,” Caractacus said softly, and Nevada’s forehead wrinkled. “If I love someone it’s because they deserve it.”

Nevada’s throat bobbed before he spoke. “Well…if you do, that person’s lucky, and if your wife’s as good as you say then I think she knows that. She’d know that all the dark spots are better when the sun finds them.” He paused. “She’d probably know what to say to make you feel better, I’m not good at it.” He lifted a hand and swiped a thumb over Caractacus’s wet cheek. “All I know is you don’t ever deserve to be sad.”

Caractacus cupped his hands to the sides of Nevada’s neck and kissed him. “You’re not a dark spot in my life,” he murmured against his lips. He threaded his fingers into Nevada’s hair and pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you for being here, Nevada. For chasing away the bad feelings,” he added.

“I’ll always do my best,” Nevada whispered.

* * *

“Where’s Nevada?”

“Good morning. He’s in the shower. Where’s your brother?”

“He’s still sleeping,” Jemima said. She’d stopped just inside the kitchen, looking at Caractacus. He couldn’t do anything about the redness around his eyes, and she’d always been too observant. “Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked.

Caractacus hated the concern in her young face. She worried too much—both of his kids did, about different things and in different ways, and he hated that he couldn’t keep them from their anxieties. The world could be a cruel place, but it was his job to protect them.

“I’m fine, Poppet,” he said, forcing a smile. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Did Nevada hurt you?” she asked. There was a sharpness in her voice that shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t directed at Caractacus, but it surprised him nonetheless. Jemima had always been the fiercest protector of the people she loved, and Caractacus admired that in her. He also feared it a bit—not for himself, but for her. She was going to face many difficulties in her life, and he wanted desperately for her to keep her kindness, for her to hold onto as much innocence as possible.

“No, baby,” he said. He reached for her, and she let him pull her into a hug. “No, it’s nothing like that. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You’re sad,” she returned.

He closed his eyes and kissed her head, drawing a deep breath. “We all get sad sometimes,” he said quietly. “It’s a part of life, sweetheart, but we can find our way back to the happy thoughts. We’re going to be alright. I’m your father, and I give you my word.”

She tightened her hold on him, her small hands fisting in his shirt at his back. “You miss Mummy, don’t you?”

His eyes burned and he buried his face in her hair for a moment before answering. “Yes. I loved your mother very much, and I miss her.”

“Me, too.”

“I know.” He pulled her back so he could see her face. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “You know you can always talk to me about her, right? You can ask me anything, tell me anything. Always.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, sniffing. She hesitated. “Does Nevada give you happy thoughts?” she finally asked.

“Happy thoughts? Yes, he makes me happy. So do you and your brother.” He regarded her for a few seconds, and saw something shift in her expression. Something like determination had settled into her features. “Do you want to talk about me and Nevada?” he asked. “Do you have questions?”

“He watches you when he thinks no one is looking at him,” she said, surprising Caractacus.

“Mimi, do you like Nevada?” he asked. “You can be honest with me.”

“I like him,” she said. “I have something for you, Daddy.”

“Something for me?”

She drew back and turned away from him. He watched her walk toward her bedroom, and he took a moment to think over what she’d said. Jemima was kind and generous, intelligent and observant, stubborn and determined. She was loving and soft, but she had a hardness inside of her that her brother didn’t.

She returned in less than a minute with an envelope. It was sealed, but there was nothing written on the front. Caractacus felt a flutter of nervousness at the sight of it, but he took it automatically when she held it toward him.

“What’s this?” he asked. She regarded him in silence, her expression solemn. He swallowed and looked down at the plain white envelope. “Is this from your mother?” There were no identifying marks on the outside, but he knew it. It was as if he could feel Mimsie’s presence on the smooth, cool paper.

“Yes. I didn’t read it. It’s for you.”

“Jemima,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers. He had questions, but he wasn’t sure how to ask them.

“Read it, Daddy,” she said quietly. She gave him a brief hug. He didn’t want to let her go, but he dropped his arm when she pulled away. She left him alone in the kitchen, and he opened the envelope with trembling fingers and pulled out a handwritten letter. The sight of Mimsie’s familiar writing made his vision blur, but he blinked back his tears and drew a deep, bracing breath.

_My dearest Jack_

_If our daughter has given you this letter, it means you’ve fallen in love again, or she thinks you have. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to worry about such things, but you know she will anyway. And the truth is, I worry about you sometimes, about what will happen to you when I’m gone._

_Who will remind you to fetch the children from school? Who will tell you to stop tinkering and eat something? Who will remind you of all the little things that need to be done?_

_But then I remember the man my husband is and will always be, and I know I needn’t worry. You’re the best father I could hope for, Jack, and I know our children will always be loved and protected._

_I worry about who will keep you warm at night, who will talk to you about your worries, who will kiss you awake in the mornings. You deserve to always be loved and treasured, and I know that you’ll always be open to love. If you’ve found someone who deserves you, don’t feel guilty. Don’t think for a moment that I want anything less for you. If our roles were reversed and you were forced to leave me, I know what you would say to me._

_Anyone who comes after me is lucky, because I know how it feels to be sheltered in your heart._

_Jeremy is like you. He’s sweet and gentle and sensitive and his heart is big enough for the world, and his imagination knows no bounds. He worries, but he finds solace in fantasy. The world will try to beat that out of him, but I know that you will not allow it._

_Jemima has your strength, the determination to always do what’s right. She carries the weight of the world. She’s been destined to grow up too fast, but I know that you will always be there to keep her on the right course and to remind her of all the beauty._

_They are the proof of our love._

_I love you forever, Jack, and I will carry you inside of me wherever I go. Be happy my love, my heart, my soul. I want for nothing more._

_Your Mimsie_

Caractacus blinked the tears from his eyes as he carefully refolded the letter and slipped it into the envelope. He thought about the letter from Nevada that he’d read while standing in nearly the same spot, the letter that had been meant to be a goodbye.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Nevada crossing toward him. Nevada could see the shimmer of fresh tears in his eyes, and he glanced at the envelope in Caractacus’s hands.

“You okay?”

Caractacus smiled and nodded. “Thinking happy thoughts,” he said, slipping the letter into his pocket. He would let Nevada read it, if he wanted. But for now: “What does everyone want for breakfast?” he asked as the kids appeared in the living room and started toward them.

“Waffles,” Jeremy said.

“Pancakes,” Jemima said at the same moment.

Caractacus raised his eyebrows at Nevada. “Looks like you’re the tie-breaker.”

Nevada glanced at the kids, both of whom were staring back at him. “Huh. Don’t you got a machine that can make both?” he asked, cocking a brow at Caractacus.

Caractacus laughed at the matching grins on his kids’ faces. “Alright. Pancakes and waffles. Who wants to help?”

Jemima and Jeremy exchanged a look and each raised a hand. They looked at Nevada.

He rolled his eyes. He glanced down as _Reina_ wound herself through his legs, purring, and sighed. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled, his lips quirking into a smile when he met Caractacus’s affectionate gaze.


End file.
